


It got buried in my fear

by bottles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Closeted Character, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottles/pseuds/bottles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is deep inside a closet filled with pills and alcohol and misery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It got buried in my fear

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit: La Dispute - Andria
> 
> It is 03:40 in the morning and this is probably shit.
> 
>  
> 
> (Edited 2013-12-20)

”Could you bring me the milk?” Zayn yells, and Louis really wishes that he had Zayn’s magic ability to never get properly hungover. Merely the thought of drinking something else than his poorly made tea makes him gag, and he tries to touch the bottle of milk as little as possible when he throws it on the pathetic heap of body parts taking up the whole sofa.

”Shouldn’t you be off to work by now?” Zayn raises a curious eyebrow.

”Nah, my boss said I could stay at home,” Louis replies, and frowns at the bitter taste of his tea. ”The kids are exploring the woods or something like that.”

”Sounds like fun,” Zayn answers with little enthusiasm. Louis hums in response. His job as an underpaid music teacher at the local primary school is probably the only anchor he has in his life, besides Zayn. He wouldn’t even have a place to live in, if it wasn’t for the dark haired lad laying lazily on the sofa.

Louis reaches down and picks up a small plastic bag along with a cracked bowl they once decided would serve perfectly as an ashtray. He picks up a pre rolled joint, lights it and inhales deeply, desperately hoping it will at least make his hangover a bit more bearable.

”D’you want some?” Louis holds out the joint towards Zayn.

”Nah, going to a photo shoot later. Don’t really want to explain why my eyes are all red,” Zayn says bitterly. Sometimes Louis forgets that he lives with an actual model. Well, part time. His main job is still flipping burgers at a dodgy burger place, a few blocks away. Such a glamourous life. ”There’s a new photographer tonight. Apparently he’s around our age and incredibly fit. I could get you his number.”

”Don’t.” Louis’ answer is short and abrupt, ending the conversation harshly. Zayn sighs when his friend stands up on wobbly legs and hurries back to his room, most probably to get high out of his mind, while trying to forget what his life really is.

Louis hates Zayn right now. He actually really, _really_ hates him, because he wasn’t even supposed to know. Louis wasn’t supposed to drunkenly flirt with a guy out in the open. Zayn wasn’t supposed to see it, and he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to ask Louis about it.

The talk afterwards was not pretty. It consisted of too much defensive shouting and crying - mainly from Louis’ side - and ended with him threatening Zayn to keep his mouth shut and never talk about it again, or else.

Zayn is the only one who knows that he prefers dick. That he actually properly _likes_ it. Perhaps it’s a bit sad that he hides behind sass and sarcasm during the day - well it is a part of his personality, though it doesn’t hurt to turn it up a notch if it’s necessary - and that he drowns himself in various types of destructive substances at night.

He has gone through numerous girlfriends, his latest being a girl named Eleanor. They dated for eight months before Louis deemed it impossible to have some sort of sexual intercourse with her. She deserved more - preferably a guy who actually enjoyed touching her - and Louis couldn’t give her that, therefore he made up some stupid excuse of how it did not work out anymore, and ”it’s not you, it’s me”.

He really tried to make himself attracted to the feminine body, but every time they lay tangled in her bed; exchanging deep kisses and gentle touches, he found himself longing for a flat chest and rough stubble. He made himself sick with the thoughts. It wasn’t fair to this lovely girl to be used like this.

It wasn’t fair.

Louis was probably the biggest cliché around; the closeted miserable fuck, trying desperately to act as heterosexual as possible, just because he is too much of a coward to ever come out.

It’s not that he is afraid of being thrown out of his flat or something equally stupid. He knows that none of his friends are even slightly homophobic with Liam being gay and Zayn identifying himself as pansexual - which Louis honestly hasn’t really understood the meaning of yet.

It is not really anything in particular that is stopping him from coming out. It's just small factors adding up to such a huge pile of anxiety and self doubt, that Louis can’t even begin to imagine what’s on the other side.

So yeah, perhaps his life is a bit sad.

And that is why he says yes to Zayn when he calls him later that night; begging him to come to the pub with him, despite having to go to work the next day. That is why he quickly throws on a pair of black jeans and the first t-shirt he is able to find, before grabbing his denim jacket and rushing down the street - his eyes still red and pupils blown.

Zayn is already tipsy when he enters the loud environment. It is more a club than a pub actually, and Louis is quite grateful for that. It gives him more anonymity, and it is easier to just drink himself into oblivion and do whatever the fuck he wants without anyone noticing.

”I have someone I want you to meet,” Zayn slurs, and Louis freezes underneath his best mate’s firm grip.

”What do you mean?” Louis asks shakily. Suddenly he feels more sober than he has been for months.

”This,” Zayn says, and drags him through the crowd; stopping in front of a tall guy leaning against the wall, ”is Harry Styles. He just moved to London and needs some friends. Be nice, Lou.” Then he runs off to God knows where.

”Hi,” Harry greets him with a deep voice, his face lighting up with a dimple framed smile.

Louis decides within three seconds that he hates Harry Styles with a passion.

Louis decides to also hate Zayn a little because this Harry guy is apparently the photographer he was talking about earlier, and Louis doesn’t know what kind of shit he told the curly haired dork, but Harry is clearly flirting with him.

It gets too much when Harry closes the distance between them completely and leans down to whisper in Louis’ ear; asking him if he wants to dance.

”Hey! Fuck off, mate.” Louis shoves the lanky idiot off him. ”Jesus christ. I’m not gay.”

”Whoa, defensive,” Harry chuckles. ”You sure you’re not though?”

”Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Louis replies angrily. ”Now please, sod off. I’m going home. If you see Zayn, tell him I hate him.”

Louis legs carry him towards his shared flat as fast as they can. Once he is finally inside, he immediately runs to the cupboard containing various types of alcoholic beverages. He is neither an alcoholic nor a junkie, but his life is just so fucking shit right now, and this is the only thing that helps.

Zayn comes home later that night to a smoke filled living room, an empty bottle of vodka and a passed out Louis on the sofa. He lays a protecting blanket over his best friend and plants a kiss on top of his dirty and disheveled hair; his heart aching at the sight.

-

It is no surprise that Louis feels like shit the next day. Even the small ten year olds seem to have made it their mission to find out why their favourite teacher is suddenly looking like a homeless man. He tries to convince them that he still lives safely in his flat with his best mate, but they don’t fully believe him. He doesn’t blame them though. His clothes are creased, his hair is a mess and the bags underneath his eyes make him look ill.

During lunch he gets a text from an unknown number - _hi, im sorry i creeped u out last night. i didnt mean to scare u away. start over as friends? - harry_. Louis tells his boss that he is sick and has to go home. Instead of sleeping - as he promised dear Mrs. Jones he would do - he pops a funny looking pill and spends his afternoon laying on his back on the balcony, staring straight up with glazed over, unseeing eyes.

Zayn is not happy when he comes home. He shouts at him; calling him things Louis can’t really comprehend. Instead of answering, Louis smiles and stumbles to his room and hides underneath his bed, because that is the only place where he can feel truly safe.

-

Luckily enough, Louis doesn’t teach on fridays. Instead he can spend his day nursing his horrendous headache. Zayn is already long gone when he wakes up at two in the afternoon, and Louis’ guess is that he is either working or miserably running after Liam again.

Louis dry swallows three painkillers before throwing himself on the tattered sofa. He spends his afternoon smoking and watching bad talk shows, and it is probably the most entertained he has been in weeks.

He falls asleep somewhere during a cringeworthy interview with an old man who apparently saved some little girl’s dog.

Zayn wakes him up by pushing him off the sofa.

”Don’t tell me you’ve been lying here the whole day,” Zayn sighs.

”I was hungover,” Louis says, pathetically trying to defend himself. ”Where were you anyway?”

”Out.”

”Out?”

”Out,” Zayn confirms. Their conversations are really something (though Louis knows that _out_ is Zayn language for hanging out with Liam; hoping he will fall as deadly in love as Zayn is). ”Why did you leave so early last night?” Zayn asks, and pops down next to Louis, who finally manages to drag himself off the floor.

”Wasn’t in the mood.” Zayn raises a questioning eyebrow.  

”You’re always in the mood.” It’s funny because it’s true.

”Well, I hate that Harry Styles guy,” Louis mutters.

”You don’t hate him,” Zayn simply states.

”And you know that because?” Louis asks, feeling a bit annoyed.

”You don’t hate _him_ ,” Zayn says again. ”You hate that you find him insanely attractive, and you hate even more that he is everything you could be if you just accept-” 

”Fuck off, mate. Seriously, fuck off.” And then Louis runs off and dramatically slams his bedroom door behind him.

He spends a serious amount of time pounding his fists into his pillows and whispering horrendous curse words under his breath - mainly aimed at himself, but a few also thrown at Zayn and Harry. When he is done, he puts on a pair of dirty sweatpants and a worn t-shirt, and instead of getting high, he goes for a two hour long run. He comes back completely exhausted, and falls asleep immediately.

Baby steps.

-

His pathetic grasp in the right direction is forgotten the next day, because it’s saturday, and saturday means alcohol and drugs and drowning his misery.

Zayn invites their friends over, and it is actually a fairly calm arrangement. Liam doesn’t drink much and only takes a few deep inhales before passing the spliff to Niall, who as usual is practically bathing in beer.

Somehow, Harry is included in the friends category, and Louis spends an hour trying to kill Zayn with his mind.

Louis tries to ignore whatever it is Harry is saying, but his slow and gravelly voice penetrate every willpower Louis has left. It is annoying and irritating, and Louis hates his friends for liking and accepting the stupid idiot. He is a pretentious arsehole, and Louis wishes he could shove him off the balcony.

It’s only fair that Louis relies on pills and cheap wine for the night.

At least his vomit looks a little less gross when it’s pink.

-

Apparently Harry Styles is a twenty three year old aspiring photographer with stupid lean legs and stupid chocolate curls and stupid dimples and stupid tattoos, and Louis hates his stupid existence.

Apparently he is also charming and nice and intellectual and everything Louis feels like he is seriously lacking right now. Louis’ whole body is growing numb, and it’s a wonderful feeling. His head is both absolutely clear and so, so dizzy at the same time, and his insides feel like velvet.

He joins Niall’s - until now one sided - discussion about Megan Fox’s body. He ignores Zayn’s sigh and Harry’s too obvious disappointed look. It is quite entertaining how good he has become at doing this. Currently Zayn is the only bad actor in his cast of _I am straight_.

Once he manages to flee to the bathroom and pop another pill, the last thing on his mind is Harry. Everything is just glorious. Even the slightly rusty metal frame of the bathroom mirror is beautiful, and he traces it with his fingers in fascination.

It doesn’t hurt when he spots Harry’s _I can’t change tattoo_ , which screams _proud gay man who doesn’t give fuck about what you think_. He is too out of it to even feel his own limbs when he stupidly reaches out for Harry’s long fingers and clumsily traces the words on his wrist.

_I can’t change_

-

”Why do you keep hurting yourself like that?”

”What?” Louis asks, feeling confused. His hangover is just starting to get a little bit more manageable, and now Zayn is trying to get something meaningful out of him. It doesn’t work that way.

”What I mean is that you keep pushing the real you away,” Zayn says calmly. Louis is just about to stand up from the sofa - because he knows exactly where this conversation is going - when Zayn grabs his arms and harshly drags him down again.

”What the fuck, Zayn?” Louis yells. ”Let me go.”

”Not until we sit down and talk about this properly, Louis,” Zayn says, still calmly. Louis’ mind is too tangled up to form a coherent excuse. ”Why wont you accept who you are? You know that we will support you.”

”‘S not you,” Louis mumbles.

”Talk louder. I can’t hear you.”

”It’s not fucking you, okay,” Louis yells. Somehow he got his voice back, and he is not planning on wasting it. ”You don’t fucking understand. The only thing you ever had to go through was some idiot spray painting your damn locker. The world isn’t that nice, Zayn. It isn’t, okay? It’s fucking scary and I can’t deal with it, so I decide to hide. Big fucking deal.” He knows he is being unfair, because Zayn’s sexuality has forced him to go through worse things than some doodling on a locker, but Louis is angry and hurt, and Zayn needs to shut the fuck up.

”It is a big deal though,” Zayn replies. ”It is a big deal because it’s hurting you.”

”I’m not fucking hurting,” Louis spits.

”You are,” Zayn sighs, and Louis is too sober for this.

”You weren’t even supposed to know,” Louis mumbles, his voice once again drowned by his roaring thoughts.

”And what were you going to do with your life if no one found out? Play your little pretend game until you died from alcohol poisoning or an overdose on God knows what?” Zayn sounds upset now and Louis doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t even want to think about it. He knows Zayn is right though. Zayn is always fucking right, but it doesn’t change the fact that Louis is a scared little shit; hiding behind defence mechanism after defence mechanism.

”Probably.” Because Louis can’t argue Zayn on that.

”What are you really afraid of, Lou?” Zayn asks after a few seconds of silence. Louis flinches, almost as if the words are physically hurting him.

”I told you. The world. Everything. People,” Louis mumbles. ”I guess.” His hands are shaking. He doesn’t like confrontation. At least not this kind of confrontation.

”I know I can’t push you into doing anything. I wont do it either. I think you should give Harry a chance though,” Zayn says, and before Louis has the chance to even open his mouth in protest, he continues. ”You don’t even have to date him or anything, just get to know him. And please, Lou. Please stop dating girls.”

”Maybe,” Louis mutters, and this time Zayn doesn’t stop him when he stands up and walks off to his bedroom.

-

He is four when he first sees two boys kissing. He asks his dad if they love each other like his mum and dad does. His dad calls them faggots and tells Louis that it isn’t right for a boy to do such things with another boy.

He is seven when he has a crush on a boy in his class. He feels ashamed when he asks his step father if it’s normal, and feels even worse when he gets the answer that it’s disgusting to like another boy that way.

He is eight when he hears about a boy in year eleven attempting suicide. He asks his mum, who tells him that the boy was bullied because he liked to kiss boys.

He is ten when he is out shopping with his mother, and sees two boys hugging each other. A couple of teenagers throw ugly words at them, and when Louis asks why, his mother ignores him.

He is twelve when he accidentally hears a few kids talking about how disgusting sex between to men is.

He is thirteen when he asks out a boy from a class above him. Louis breaks up with him after barely escaping a rough beating from a group of older boys - just because they were holding hands in public. He changes to a different school and cuts off every relationship he had prior the incident.

He is fourteen when he meets Zayn. They become best friends, and continue to be so even when Zayn comes out as bisexual.

He is fifteen when he gets his first girlfriend. They last for three months before the girl calls him a queer and breaks them up.

He is sixteen when someone spray paints _faggot_ on Zayn’s locker.

He is seventeen when his step father grounds him because he discovered gay porn on Louis’ laptop.

He is nineteen when he moves to London with Zayn. He meets Liam and Niall and they all become best friends. He continues to date girls.

He is twenty two when Zayn finds out his real sexuality.

He is twenty five when Harry steps into his life.

-

Louis still has Harry’s apology text saved in his phone, and he has no valid excuse, at all. As soon as his eyes spot the unsaved number, it’s almost like his fingers move by themselves.

_hi_

It’s pathetic really. Yet he couldn’t muster up any more courage than a simple hi. It’s a start though, and definitely more than he has done in several years.

_its louis right? hi! how are you?_

Louis doesn’t know if he is sad or happy that Harry answered. Mostly he is just confused and anxious and a bit angry, and it takes him two hours to answer.

It is monday evening, he is high and he has a job to attend to in just a night’s sleep. It doesn’t matter though. He can’t do this if he is supposed to be sober. Perhaps another time he doesn’t need to dry swallow pills just to be able to write a simple text.

_m fine, u?_

His fingers wont obey him properly. It feels like they are ten times their original size. It’s quite hilarious, and Louis can’t stop giggling. Zayn must think he has gone mad.

_im brilliant! what are you up to?_

Louis thinks that Harry is brilliant. Mostly stupid, and Louis still hates him, but Harry is also a tiny bit brilliant.

_nothing rly, just laying in bed_

At least it is partly true. Louis doesn’t tell Harry that he is popping pills just to be able to talk to him.

_sounds like fun. do you want to grab a coffee tomorrow after work?_

Louis cries himself to sleep that night.

-

Being a music teacher to a group of nine year olds is not simple. It is really fucking hard actually, and Louis is about to rip his hair out if the kids don’t stop hitting the tambourines like crazy people and actually start listening to what he has to say.

It doesn’t work though, because they are children and his life is a disaster.

Also, it doesn’t get better when the English teacher, who apparently hates his guts, starts to whisper things behind his back during lunch. Louis is not stupid. He knows that the small group of middle aged women are talking shit about him.

He sighs and pictures their faces on the tomatoes he furiously stabs with his fork, and thinks that he probably should get a knew job.

-

”I heard you’re texting Harry. I’m proud of you, Lou,” Zayn says one day while lazily passing a spliff between them. Somehow the comment doesn’t light a furious fire inside him. Somehow he feels fairly calm and collected.

”Yeah, whatever,” Louis mutters. Zayn doesn’t push it anymore. He doesn’t want to destroy Louis’ progress.

-

It takes Louis three weeks before he goes out for a friendly cup of coffee with Harry. He feels like shit because Harry is just so nice and Louis has been cold and distant and sometimes ignored him completely.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind though, and perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea.

Louis walks home with a smile on his face.

-

Louis is not okay when he gets home, and Zayn is not there to praise his effort and keep him grounded. Zayn is not there to keep him from doing all the stupid things that is currently swirling around in his head; bickering and taunting him. Zayn is not there, and Louis needs Zayn more than ever.

He swallows one of the pink pills in the small plastic bag he safely keeps taped to the underside of his bed. He punches a hole into the living room wall and vows to never talk to Harry again.

Zayn comes home too late. Louis is already lying passed out on the sofa; his cheeks still wet from desperate crying.

Zayn sits down in the kitchen; furiously running a hand through his messy hair. He doesn’t know what to do with Louis, and Louis wont let him help. He is stuck in a stupid hamster wheel; running around in circles for all eternity.

He calls Liam; desperate for some sort of advice. He doesn’t out Louis, of course he doesn’t. He is not that shit of a friend. He just asks Liam what you are supposed to do when your best friend is hurting and you can’t do anything about it - because Liam always knows the answers.

Except, Liam doesn’t have an answer this time and Zayn cries for the first time since his nan passed away.

-

”Lou, I really think you should slow down with the alcohol and drugs and shit like that,” Zayn says. Louis’ head snaps up from his crouched position. His hands start shaking and the spliff he is rolling gets completely destroyed when weed and tobacco scatters all over the table.

”I don’t really think you are in the right position to tell me that, Zayn,” Louis snaps.

”Even Niall is getting worried,” Zayn replies a little bit louder. ” _Niall_ ,” he adds, as if Louis didn’t understand that he was talking about the small Irish leprechaun who can down ten beers without being even a little unsteady on his feet.

”Yeah, I know. _Niall_ ,” Louis mocks. ”Still. It’s quite ironic that you bring this up while I’m sitting here rolling you a bloody spliff.”

”Whatever. Forget what I said.” Zayn knows when Louis builds up his defences too high. ”You haven’t talked to Harry since your date?”

”It wasn’t a date, and no. I don’t usually talk to inconsiderate aresholes,” Louis replies. ”Except for you, that is.”

”Wanker,” Zayn mutters. ”Harry’s nice though.”

”We don’t always have to like the same people,” Louis says. Zayn mutters something under his breath Louis can’t really understand, and accepts the poorly made spliff Louis offers him. ”I’m thinking of getting a new job.”

”Really?” Zayn raises a questioning eyebrow. The biggest change Louis has made in his life in years is when he bought new bed sheets six months ago.

”Yeah. The school’s shit. The teachers are shit. The kids are shit. I hate it.” Louis frowns at the thought of walking through the hallways at that horrendous school one more time. ”Well. Okay. The kids aren’t shit. I just don’t think I’m made for teaching children. I always thought this music/drama thing would take me somewhere else.”

”Well, I know the theatre a few streets down are looking for a new pianist. Maybe you should audition? You’re seriously brilliant, it wouldn’t be hard for you to get the job,” Zayn says. Louis feels his cheeks redden a little at the compliment.

”Who told you?” Louis asks, curious as to why Zayn of all people would know something about the local theatre.

”Harry told me.”

”Oh, so you’re like best buddies now?” Louis mutters.

”Well. No. He was just down there doing some photography shit and asked me if I knew someone who could play. I didn’t think you would be up to it though,” Zayn replies.

”Well.” Louis is angry because it’s _Harry_ who is behind all this, but anything is better than sitting another day in that mouldy break room. ”Alright, I’ll go down there tomorrow.”

-

Louis gets the job easily, and something is finally working out for him. He spends his day practising for the big show, and his mind is filled to the brink with mezzo-pianos, crotches, quavers and fortissimos. For once it’s a nice mess inside his head.

Perhaps he also exchanges a few texts with Harry. They are just friendly though. Casual.

Louis tries to cut down his pill usage, and Zayn seems a little bit happier, even though Louis’ hands are always shaking nowadays.

-

Harry kisses Louis for the first time a thursday night a couple of weeks after Louis’ show, and everything just feels _right_. Harry’s soft, plump lips and slightly rough chin is everything Louis ever dreamt of, and it is so fantastically brilliant. Harry tangles his long fingers into Louis’ messy hair, and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s warm body.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t anymore, and later that night Louis pops a pill to take the edge of _you just kissed a boy, you just kissed a boy, you just kissed a fucking boy and you liked it you fucking faggot_.

-

Louis breath hitches when he feels Harry’s hands caress him and explore every single inch of his body. He gently sucks and nibbles at Louis’ neck, teasing him into madness.

”Please-” Louis stops, because he doesn’t even know what he wants except from _harryharryharry_.

Harry is in complete control, grinding against Louis’ hips while tearing both of their shirts off. He slowly twists Louis’ nipples, earning a throaty moan from the man underneath him. He pauses for a few seconds to rip off his tight black jeans; continuing with Louis’ slightly baggier trousers afterwards.

Louis tries to buck his crotch up, desperately looking for some sort of friction. Harry is having none of that though, and pins his hips down while leaving sloppy wet kisses all over Louis’ torso.

It’s sweaty and sweet and so incredibly wonderful, but Louis can’t help the self hate intensifying with each and every thrust. Harry is so gentle and caring, and Louis feels like he is somehow betraying him, even though there is officially nothing going on between them. Just a bit of casual kissing, and apparently also sex.

Louis clutches onto Harry’s sweaty body when they are done, needing something to keep him from thinking those horrible thoughts. An anchor who can make all the hurt and terror go away.

Harry tells Louis that he is beautiful before falling asleep and Louis thinks that he couldn’t be more wrong. All this fear and dread has made him ugly on the inside. All the hiding has tainted his soul; made him dark and disfigured.

He doesn’t feel guilty anymore when he gets home and swallows a pill with pure vodka. He doesn’t even feel slightly bad that he left Harry alone in his bed like some dirty one night stand, because everything he can feel right now is utter euphoria.

-

Louis has a new drinking game. Take a shot for every time Harry texts him, apologising and asking him what happened. Take a pill for every ignored call. Needless to say, Louis is completely smashed within one hour.

Zayn comes home when Louis tries to make snow angles on the living room floor. He roughly grabs Louis arm, trying to pull him up. Once he is finally seated in the sofa, he motions for Zayn to come a bit closer and starts whispering in his ear.

”We had sex,” he giggles. He can’t stop laughing, because somehow it is incredibly hilarious. ”Harry fucked me. He sucked me off, and he fucked me. And then I left.” Louis isn’t giggling anymore.

”Shit, Lou,” Zayn sighs. ”You really fucked up this time, mate.” Louis’ head starts lolling around; his eyes only showing the whites. ”Shitshit _shit_. Louis. Listen to me, mate.” Zayn shakes his friend harshly, trying to get Louis’ attention. Louis eyes roll around in its sockets; pathetically trying to pin them on the person speaking to him.

”Wha’?”

”How many pills did you take, Louis? I’m serious. How many fucking pills did you take?” Zayn shakes Louis’ shoulders hard.

”Dunno. Play’d a g’me. ‘arry’s m’ssed calls,” Louis slurs, and Zayn is having trouble understanding what he is saying. He puts a hand against Louis’ forehead, wincing at how cold and clammy he is. Zayn snatches Louis’ phone from the living room table and sees fourteen missed calls flash across the screen. They are not all from Harry. A few of them came from himself, Liam and Niall, and Zayn wonders just how long Louis has been here all by himself.

But Zayn knows Louis, and he probably didn’t even check his phone when it went off, only presuming it was Harry and continuing with his lethal game.

Zayn dials a number he always wished would never come to use, while holding his barely breathing best friend in his arms. It feels like an entire eternity has gone by when they finally lift him onto a stretcher and rush him to the hospital.

Zayn doesn’t even realise that he is crying until one of the nurses come to check on him, asking him if he feels dizzy or faint. He tells her to fuck off.

Liam and Niall arrive within an hour, and Zayn has still not heard anything from Louis.

Two hours pass and still nothing.

Three hours go by and Zayn feels like he is about to burst, because it is his best fucking friend who is lying somewhere in this hospital, completely helpless and vulnerable, and Zayn just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

Zayn has been sitting in the waiting room for four hours when a doctor finally appears. Louis is alive and breathing on his own.

-

”Wha-”

”If you weren’t in a fucking hospital bed with tubes and wires sticking out of you, I would beat the fucking shit out of you.” Louis looks at Zayn with big, teary eyes, trying to understand what is going on. ”They found shitloads of oxycodone in your blood. You’re staying here on suicide watch and they’ll keep you here until you’ve gone through withdrawal.”

”I’m sorry,” Louis rasps out. Tears are starting to fall down his pale cheeks. His whole body is trembling, because this is not what he wanted. This was not supposed to happen.

”Fucking idiot,” Zayn sobs, and brings Louis into a tight hug. His fingers press harshly into Louis’ back, as if he is scared that his friend will disappear if he lets go. ”You fucking idiot. Why?”

”I-,” Louis can’t answer Zayn, because doesn’t even know himself. He was not trying to kill himself, definitely not. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and Louis hates himself for messing everything up.

-

Withdrawal is not pretty.

It is manageable at first. Louis feels restless, anxious and sweaty. He gets overly emotional, crying for no reason at all. He feels feverish and tired, yet he can’t make himself fall asleep. Zayn, Liam and Niall take turns in sitting next to his bed. He feels both grateful and ashamed. He doesn’t want his best friends to see him like this, especially not when it is going to get so much worse. Still he thinks that he wouldn’t be able to do this without them.

His stomach starts cramping. He vomits until he is left painfully dry heaving, his body trying to rid itself from the toxins. Every single nerve is causing him excruciating pain. His muscles spasm involuntary. His heart stutters harshly in his chest.

He needs relief.

Just a tiny bit of release.

Anything.

He doesn’t care.

Just please, please give him something.

It hurts so fucking much, just please help him.

He wants to kill every single one who dares to talk to him. Can’t they just understand that he _needs_ it.

He screams at Zayn; shouts foul words and vicious descriptions of how much he hates him.

He sobs; tells him that he is sorry. So, so sorry. Just pretty, pretty please give him something. _Anything_.

-

When Louis comes home, the flat looks completely new. Every bad memory is thrown out, even the hole in the living room wall isn’t there anymore.

Perhaps it is better this way.

-

Somehow during all this chaos, Zayn and Liam got together. Louis has no idea how it happened, but suddenly Liam never seems to leave their flat, and Louis doesn’t get one second to himself anymore. He has to talk Zayn out of following him to the toilet, because he is not too fond of having his best mate standing next to him while taking a piss.

No one mentions Harry, even though Louis has a slight suspicion that they still hang out with him, that they at least have talked to him about all _this_. Whatever _this_ is.

-

Louis has to talk to a therapist and attend group sessions with washed out junkies and dirty alcoholics whom he can not relate to. He is always exhausted and this knew sobriety thing is only causing him headaches, cravings and misery.

He catches himself thinking about the night he spent together with Harry and he doesn’t know if it is a good or a bad memory anymore. His therapist says that he should talk to Harry, clear things up. Take away some of the weight on his shoulders. Lessen the pressure inside his tangled mind.

-

Louis takes the first step. He invites Harry over for a cup of tea, and pushes Zayn and Liam out of the flat. Begging them to leave him alone for just an hour.

Harry looks even more incredible than before, and suddenly his flat - his safe haven - isn’t protecting him anymore. Even though Harry isn’t the root of all his hurt, he brought some of the pain inside the guarding walls. Louis feels vulnerable.

”I didn’t text or call you because Zayn told me it would only make it worse. I didn’t want to cause you anymore harm than I already had,” Harry says and looks thoughtfully down into the sickly sweet tea.

”Thank you,” Louis replies. ”I mean. I don’t think I could have handled even the thought of talking to you during those weeks. I’m sorry.”

”Don’t be sorry.” Harry is smiling now. It’s a small and shy smile, but a smile nonetheless. It makes Louis feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

”I’m seeing a therapist now,” Louis explains. ”It’s helping. I think.”

”That’s good. That’s really good, Lou.” Harry smile is bigger now. It is contagious, making the corners of Louis’ mouth slightly twitch upwards.

”I think I like you,” Louis breathes out, and suddenly he feels like crying. He had not realised what a huge statement it was until it fell out of his mouth. This is the closest he has come to accepting himself in years. It isn’t even a baby step. This step is the size of an elephant’s.

”I think I like you too,” Harry replies. He holds his hands out, letting Louis decide whether or not he is going to reach over the table and lay his hands in Harry’s. It takes him five minutes before tentatively lifting them from their current position on his lap, and let Harry gently caress his fingers. He massages Louis’ torn cuticles and slowly rubs his long fingers over Louis’ delicate wrists. It feels oddly calming.

”If. If you’re serious with this. If you really want to be with me.” Louis pauses for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. ”I mean. It’s not going to be easy. I’m not. I don’t. Don’t expect me to, like. I can’t hold hands and stuff like that in public. Not yet anyway. It’s going to take a really long time, and I understand if you don’t want to go through such a hassle. It’s okay.”

”Listen, Louis,” Harry says and squeezes Louis’ hands a little harder. ”I know what I’m throwing myself into. And I don’t mind. I really like you, and I think you are worth so much more than the obstacles we have to overcome.” Harry is smiling, and Louis is smiling back at him, even though he feels horribly anxious and scared. He knows that Harry can feel his hands shaking. Though the softness in Harry’s eyes and the sincerity in his words makes everything bearable.

Perhaps it is time to unbury himself from the fear.


End file.
